


Lord of the Northern Wind

by Morvith



Series: Russian Fairy Tales [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Attempted Murder, Child Neglect, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-01-25 15:06:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1652921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morvith/pseuds/Morvith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one hails the Northern wind, until one day a little boy did... J2 retelling of the Russian fairytale “Father Frost.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a poor farmer and his wife. For years and years they had prayed the Lord to be blessed with children, and at last they had a son on Midsummer day.

They named the baby Jared and they loved him with all their heart. Truly, even if their land was poor and work was hard, they couldn't have been happier.

Alas, all their happiness wasn't meant to last! In autumn, the farmer's wife suddenly fell ill and died, leaving her husband heartbroken and alone. All winter long he mourned her, taking care of their son as best as he could, but as spring drew nearer he realized he couldn't go on on his own: Jared was too young to accompany him in the fields or stay home alone all day.

 

Still with a heavy heart, the farmer decided to marry again, if he could find a woman who'd have him. With this idea in mind he set out for the nearest village, which wasn't very near at all.

As luck would have it, in that village lived a family with many daughters and very little to give them as dowry. The eldest daughter heard of the poor farmer's search and immediately told her father to invite him to their house.

 

When the farmer heard, he was overjoyed: “God bless you a thousand times over, dear girl! For the kindness you showed me and my poor boy, I swear to be patient and kind and always treat you with the utmost respect.”

 

“You are a rare man and any woman would be lucky to have you,” said she. “For my part, I swear I'll love and protect your son as though he were my own.”

 

They were soon married and the farmer took her to his home. It was a little frightening, living there in the middle of the fields, all alone but for her new husband and the baby, and at first she missed her sisters and her village, but soon she grew used to having her own house. She found Jared a sweet and gentle child and came to love him easily.

The three of them lived together in good harmony: the farmer would work in the fields, his new wife would look after the house and Jared would play, grow and learn. After four years, the farmer had to take Jared aside and tell him than soon he would have a brother or a sister.

 

The baby, a boy they called Adric, arrived next spring. Jared, like most children, was happy to have a brother but disappointed to discover he wouldn't make a decent playmate any time soon.

But after the new baby was born, his stepmother found that everyday she loved Adric more and more and Jared less and less. As the boys grew, she found it easy to excuse her son when he shirked his chores or threw tantrums, and easier still to punish Jared for the smallest infraction.

For many years she struggled with her own heart, constantly trying to be fair and mindful of her promise, but then, when Jared was 11 and Adric 7, the farmer went to join his first wife in the grave.

 

After the funeral was over and the neighbors had left, the young widow burst into tears.  “Ah, poor me!” she sobbed. “Whatever shall I do now without my husband?”

 

“Don't be afraid, mama,” said Jared, hugging her tightly. “I'm the man of the house now and I'll always take care of you and my little brother, I promise.” 

 

These words were meant to reassure her, but she felt only ice in her heart and cursed the cruel fates that condemned her to spend what little was left of her youth in sweat and toil, all for another woman's son. Her first instinct was to push Jared away, but she remembered her promise and buried her anger deep in her heart.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The following year was, indeed, extremely hard: their mother was forced to spend what little money she and the farmer had put aside to hire workers and spent most of her time working with them in the fields. The children had never been allowed to be idle, but now they had to take care of the animals and mind the house.

 

One day, Adric was told to stay home with Jared while their mother oversaw the last preparations for winter. However, he soon grew bored and started poking his nose around the house: in a drawer by his mother's bed he found a pretty little silver brooch, the only present his mother received on her wedding day. He knew he was not to touch it, for his mother had said so many times, but he decided to take it anyway and show it to his friends. While his brother did his chores, he snuck out of the house and ran across the fields, where he played all day with the neighbor children. When he returned home, he went into his mother's room to put the brooch back, only to discover that his pockets were empty and the brooch was nowhere to be found. Scared, Adric ran out of the room, but he forgot to close the drawer.

 

When mother came home, she went into her bedroom and saw the drawer half-open. Remembering she had not touched it at all, she called the children. “Who opened my drawer and took my brooch, the brooch I told you never to touch? Give it back now or I'll give you to the Northern wind, who is cold and cruel.”

Adric immediately burst into tears: “I'm so sorry, mama. I took the pretty brooch to show it to my friends, but I lost it, I can't give it back. Please, mama, don't give me to the Northern Wind!”

 

The woman was surprised, for she thought her darling boy could do no wrong, and though she was very angry, she still couldn't bring herself to punish him. Instead, she turned to her step-son.

“You are a very wicked boy,” she told him. “You didn't watch your little brother and you let him lose my silver brooch that was going to be his only inheritance. Take a lamp, go out into the fields and look for my brooch! Don't come back until you've found it or I won't let you in!”

 

In vain Jared protested that he had been working and he had not seen his brother take the brooch, he was thrown out into the night with only a light and his cloak.

Sad and terrified, Jared walked up and down the fields, looked in every hole and every bush, but he couldn't find the brooch.

He went back to the house and knocked on the door. “Please, mother, let me in, the night grows colder and colder.”

 

“Did you find my brooch?” said she.

 

“It's too dark to see, mother, I cannot find it. I beg you, let me in or I shall freeze.”

 

“Good-for-nothing! Layabout! You haven't looked hard enough! Go back to the fields and keep looking, for I will not let you in! The barn and the hen house are locked: you'll find no shelter unless you bring me back my brooch.”

 

Jared took his light and walked back to the fields, all alone and even more terrified than before. He tried to look for the brooch again, but the howling wind froze his fingers and stung his eyes and every sound made him jump with fear.

Exhausted and broken-hearted, he curled up under a tree, trying to warm himself under his cloak.

 

Suddenly, he heard hooves clattering as loud as thunder and he saw a rider approaching, a pale man all wrapped in furs on a snow-white horse. At that sight, Jared trembled in fear, for who could it be but the herald of winter, the lord of the Northern wind?

Nobody liked the Northern wind, nobody blessed its arrival or mourned its departure for it brought naught but cold, frost and darkness and its lord knew neither mercy nor pity.

 

Jared's first thought was to hide, but he immediately chided himself for a fool, for what good would it do? No creature under the sky could hide from the wind and his chattering teeth would give him away in no time at all.

Instead, he smiled at the rider and shouted, “Well met, lord of the White Lands! I hope our heavenly Father sent you for my sinful soul.”

 

The lord of the Northern wind jumped down from his horse. “Why, a little mortal! What are you doing out here in the fields?”

 

“My little brother lost our mother's silver brooch and I was sent to find it.” Jared said and tried in vain not to stare. Stories and legends always described the lord of the Northern wind as an old man, with a long beard as white as snow and eyes as cold as ice, yet the man who stood before him was young and handsome. “Is this your real form or just a guise you took not to scare me?”

 

The question left his mouth before he could stop it, but instead of being angered, the lord of the Northern wind laughed. “Truly, I have no other form than this and I doubt there's a thing on this Earth that could scare you, little mortal: bigger men than you dare not hail me or ask me questions. But the night will grow colder still and you should run home. I know little of your people, but I know they cannot survive a night like this.”

 

“I cannot go until I find my mother's brooch,” said Jared. “And it's so dark I cannot see it.”

 

“Oh, you cannot? Is it because you are still young?” he asked, then shook his head. “Forgive me, you are hardly in the mood to chatter and here I go, asking questions. But you're a brave one, little mortal, and bravery should be rewarded.”

Before Jared could speak, the lord of the Northern wind raised his hand and there was a gust of wind so strong he had to close his eyes.

When he opened them again, the lord of the Northern wind held his mother's brooch in hand. “Is it this one?”

 

Jared jumped to his feet. “Yes, yes, it is! Thank you, sir!” He clutched the brooch to his chest, his fingers numb with cold. “I know I am only a child, but if there's any service you'd ask of me...”

 

“There are no debts between us. Although...”

 

“Although?”

 

“My brother and my sisters know the mortal world very well, but when I ride, all mortals sit in their warm houses and won't stir. You too probably wish to go back inside, but would you mind staying here and talk for a while?”

 

“I wouldn't mind at all, sir.” Jared replied, shivering.

 

The lord of the Northern wind smiled. “And will you be comfortable here, brave little mortal?”

 

For a moment, Jared hesitated, then he met his eyes and answered: “I am very comfortable now, I hope I shall remain so.”

 

The lord of the Northern wind laughed again and sat down next to him.

The wind howled all around them and the night grew colder, but while Jared talked to the lord of the Northern wind, he did not feel cold at all – actually, he felt almost warm and he was, indeed, most comfortable.

The hours flew by, until it was almost dawn.

 

“You are a very kind mortal. I have one more question for you.”

 

Jared's heart clenched, fearing the lord of the Northern wind would leave him alone, but resolved to answer him truthfully. “Ask away.”

 

“I'd like to know your name, if you'll part with it.”

Hearing that, Jared hesitated again: everybody knew you were not to give your name to magic creatures, or they'd have power over you.

“I will understand if you don't...”

 

“It's Jared. My name, it's Jared,” he said quickly, before courage deserted him.

 

The lord of the Northern wind smiled. “Jared. Thank you. It's a great gift and I wish to repay you in kind.”

 

“It was a gift freely given, there are no debts between us.”

 

“A gift for a gift, then,” he said. Then he leaned forward, pressed his lips against Jared's forehead and Jared forgot the cold and dark. He suddenly felt hot, as though he had been standing close to a fire at the height of summer.

The lord of the Northern wind stood, but the heat remained. “For the kindness you showed me, you'll never feel cold again. Snow won't trouble you, nor will ice, nor even the Northern wind. And for the gift of your name...” He smiled. “I shall give you my own.”

 

“Your name? But...”

 

“Jensen. This is the name our Father gave me, the name only my brother and sisters know. I gladly give it to you. Say it when the Northern wind blows and no matter where I am, I shall hear you – but it's for you alone. You must never share it with anyone, living or dead.”

 

“Upon my soul, I won't” Jared said solemnly, the promise of the man he would be someday and not the boy he still was.

 

The lord of the Northern wind looked back at him, not quite smiling. “I know you'll keep your word, little mortal,” he said and swung himself back in the saddle. “Farewell!”

 

“Until we meet again, my lord!” Jared shouted, waving and smiling, and the wind carried the sound of laughter back to him.

Soon the lord Jensen was gone from his sight and Jared started the long walk back home with his mind full of green eyes, a kind voice and that low laugh.

 

When he appeared before his step-mother, casually strolling up to the house with her brooch in one hand and his folded cloak in the other, she hardly knew what to think or feel: all night long her conscience had tormented her, but then the love she felt for her own child would start whispering, painting terrible pictures of her dear Adric alone and starving, without a place to call his own. It would have hardly been murder: men and livestock alike often succumbed to the cold, it was just the way things were.

Yet there Jared was, hale and healthy, not even a bit chilled, after being out all night....There had to be an explanation – the boy had to have found some shelter, a shepherd's hut or a groove in the ground. She wondered if somebody had helped and that thought filled her with fear: not of neighbors, but of the spirits and ghosts that walked in the night. She almost asked him if he had met someone out there in the fields, but her voice would not come. Instead, fearing for her soul, she told her stepson to go to his room and sleep.

 

Jared gratefully obeyed. As he laid down under the covers, he wondered if it would have been blasphemous to dream of a Wind Lord.


	3. Chapter 3

Winter came and everybody retired indoors.

Jared, however, could not forget meeting the Wind Lord: though he had long since grown used to the noise all the winds made blowing around his little house, he started waking up in the middle of the night, listening for hoof-beats.

 

One night, he heard them and immediately slipped out of bed, careful not to wake his brother, and raced out of the house, standing in the icy wind without shivering. In the pale moonlight he saw a white horse running on the snow-covered fields without disturbing a single snowflake and his heart leapt with joy.

“Hail, lord of the Northern wind!” he shouted.

 

The rider immediately turned his mount toward the little farm and in the blink of an eye they came to a stop before him.

“Little mortal!” The lord of the Northern wind said, surprise and concern mingling in his voice. “Why are you outside? Is your mother cross with you again?”

 

“No, my lord. I heard you ride and I wished to see you again, if it's allowed. I hope I have not offended you, for it was not my intention.” Jared said, feeling all his blood rush to his face. He hadn't actually put much though on what might happen once he saw the lord Jensen again.

 

But the lord of the Northern wind laughed. “No, no, little mortal, you could never offend me and no law forbids our meeting. How fare you?”

 

“Very well, sir.” Jared smiled. “I'm afraid I have nothing interesting to tell you: there's not much to do in winter.”

 

“The same cannot be said for me,” lord Jensen's green eyes met Jared's. “But then, if our working seasons were matched, you'd be too tired to come out and I wouldn't have the pleasure of your company.” 

 

Jared blushed, and stammered. “Shall you ride far tonight, my lord?”

 

Lord Jensen smiled and began telling him about all the faraway places he would see that very night, where all sorts of strange and marvelous things could be seen.

“It's such a big world out there...” Jared whispered, awed. “And I have never gone farther than our little village.”

 

“Who knows, little mortal? Maybe someday you'll travel there and learn to know those lands even better than me.” 

 

“Better than you? No, impossible.” he replied. “It's a nice dream...but I must stay here and take care of my mother and brother.” 

 

The Lord of the Northern wind pursed his lips as several uncharitable thoughts about Jared's mother and brother ran through his mind. Aloud, he said, “Then I'll have to visit you again and tell you more.”

 

“Would you?” Jared's eyes sparkled. “Thank you, my lord. I don't know how I can repay you, but...”

 

“No need for payments between us,” Lord Jensen interrupted him almost sternly. “Not if we are to be friends.” 

 

At this, the boy fell silent for a handful of seconds – Lord Jensen felt his heart accelerate for the first time in centuries, even as a corner of his mind was steeling itself for rejection.

“I'd be honored to call myself your friend,” Jared said. “I shall prove worthy of your trust, I swear.” 

 

Lord Jensen smiled. “You are a good boy, Jared. I must leave now, but we shall talk more next time.”

 

“Really?” He cried, then blushed. “I mean...I shall look forward to your next visit. Ride safe, my lord.” 

 

“Sleep well, little mortal.” The lord of the Northern wind bowed his head, then turned his horse and took off at a gallop. Jared watched him go, following him with his gaze until there was nothing more to see but a black sky and undisturbed snow. It was only then that he quietly slipped back into the house and under the covers, next to a snoring Adric, and was soon asleep. 

 

As he slept, the lord of the Northern wind rode for miles and miles, until he reached the border of his sister's lands, where she ruled alone and no other wind could venture.

“Danneel!” He shouted. “Come out, I need to speak with you.” 

 

His words had barely stopped echoing in the air that a beautiful lady came galloping on a black horse. “Well, brother! What brings you here this fine morning? It's not my time to ride out yet, I would know.”

 

“I know, sister, and bring my apologies to Aldis for disturbing your rest, but I couldn't wait. I've met a mortal.”

 

The lady of the Southern wind gasped in surprise. “You met a mortal? I thought you had stopped trying at least six centuries ago”

 

“I had, but this one hailed me first.”

 

She narrowed her eyes. “And he didn't curse you or swear at you for following Our Father's order and fulfilling your duty? I can hardly believe it!”

The lord of the Northern wind turned his face away in shame.

“Forgive me, Jensen, I didn't mean to bring back painful memories,” said she, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I just wish those foolish mortals in the North could see my lands, then they'd understand why it cannot always be hot! You are my favorite brother, I'd hate to see you hurt.”

 

“I know, I know. But I think this time it might be different. _He_ is different: only a boy, yet he wasn't afraid of me, even if he was dying when I met him. And tonight, he came out of his house to look for me and accepted my friendship. He said I honored him, can you believe it?” Jensen said, his voice filled with awe. “He said he wanted to see me again. Isn't that incredible?” 

 

“Does this wonder have a name?” lady Danneel asked dryly. 

 

“Jared,” he replied. “His name his Jared.” 

 

***********

 

What a winter it was for those two lonely souls! Every time little Jared heard the Northern wind beating against the wall of his house, he snuck out in the cold that couldn't touch him and waited for the only person he knew who took him seriously and listened to him.

As for lord Jensen, for the first time in centuries he could talk to someone who wasn't one of his siblings. He would have stopped by Jared's house every night if he hadn't known all too well what destruction his powers could cause: his friend was safe, but the other humans and the land itself were not. He couldn't indulge himself or he would ruin everything – and then Jared would never speak to him again.

The lord of the Northern wind was so worried, he resolved never to approach Jared's house unless the boy called him first.

Jared never noticed, or if he did, he thought it a sort of game, a secret between the two of them and was always careful not to use the Wind Lord's name.

 

They kept meeting and talking for months and months, moon, snow and stars their only witnesses – but even a Wind Lord cannot stop the seasons: the Eastern wind started blowing more and more often, heralding the arrival of Spring.

Everyone was happy – that is, everyone but Jared.

 

One night, after the first shoots had already started poking their heads through the snow, he was awakened by the wind whistling and rattling. His heart leapt when he realized it was the Northern Wind: he immediately jumped out of bed and rushed outside.

“Hail, lord of the Northern wind!” he shouted happily.

 

 

The lord of the Northern wind dismounted, like the first time they had met, and Jared felt a pang of marvel and envy at his height: he felt certain he would never grow so tall.

“Hello, little mortal.”

 

Jared barely stopped himself from throwing his arms around him – that would have been going too far and then he'd never see the wind lord again.

“You are back.” he breathed instead. “The wind has been blowing from the East, I thought... I'm glad you are back.”

 

“It's good to see you too. I've come to take my leave: after tonight, I'll retire to my lands.” 

 

“Oh. I see. I guess it cannot snow forever,” Jared said, forcing himself to smile. “But this isn't farewell, is it?”

 

A pained expression flashed for a second on the wind lord's face, so quick Jared wasn't sure if it had been really there or if he had imagined it. “No, no, it isn't. I shall come back next Autumn...if you still wish me to.”

 

Jared nodded. “I'll be waiting.”

 

“I hope so. You know, it will be your turn to tell stories. Who knows how many you'll collect before then,” the wind lord said. “Well...goodbye, Jared.” 

 

“Goodbye, my lord. Until next Autumn.” 

 

The lord of the Northern wind swung himself up on his saddle and bowed his head at him one last time before spurring his horse into a canter.

As Jared watched him go, he felt cold for the first time in months – only this time it came from his heart.

 

Slowly, inexorably the days grew longer and warmer. Spring arrived, with its showers and its chores, and then was replaced by Summer.

Jared spent all his days working hard and collecting stories for winter, but he never told lord Jensen the most extraordinary story of all.

 

It happened on one of the hottest days of Summer, when the sun beat down mercilessly on their heads and even the grass and flowers wilted in the heat. While Jared and Adric were watching over their cow near the forest, they ran out of water.

 

“What shall we do now?” little Adric asked. “Our house is too far.”

 

“There is a spring in the wood, it's a bit of a walk but it's closer than home,” Jared said. “I shall go and fill our flasks, you mind the cow.”

 

Adric immediately agreed, so Jared gathered their flasks and left. It was awfully hot even under the shadow of the ancient trees, and strangely quiet too: as Jared walked deeper and deeper in the woods, the only sounds he could hear were those he himself made – the dry grass crunching under his feet, the soft rustling of leaves when he brushed against the lower, thinner branches. Nothing else stirred, not even a mosquito or a bumblebee.

Jared felt a shiver race down his spine and, for a moment, he thought of turning back, but his parched throat spurred him onward.

 

At last, he saw the trees grow thinner and thinner until he stepped out in a clearing. His mouth felt even drier as the unmistakable sound of water rushing between stones reached his ears: in a couple of strides, he crossed clearing and dropped to his knees next to the deep pool, his flasks carelessly dropped beside him as he reached out with cupped hands. His hands almost broke the water when, suddenly, somebody spoke behind him. “Good day, boy.”

 

Startled, Jared scrambled to his feet and whipped around. On the other side of the clearing stood a little old lady, dressed in black from head to toe and carrying two empty pails.

 

“Good day, madam.” Jared replied, briefly wondering whence she had come as he had been sure he was alone. “Forgive me, I did not hear you. Do you need help with those pails?”

 

The old woman beamed at him and happily handed over the pails. After he filled them, not without some effort, he filled one of his own flasks and offered it to her so she could drink more comfortably.

 

“You are kind,” she said, and Jared saw a strange glint in her eyes. “I understand now why you interest him so: kindness is something my brother has never seen from your people.”

Jared stared at her, fear binding his limbs and stilling his tongue, and before his eyes now stood a tall woman, beautiful and young and smiling at him like she knew all his secrets.

“You have my brother's name,” she said. “It's a precious gift. It might bring you great happiness, someday, or it might lead you to even greater misfortune and ruin. Choose wisely.” 

 

“I do not plan to use it all!” Jared protested, but the lady's smile didn't falter. 

 

“We shall see. Farewell now, young man, my task here is done.” 

 

Between a heartbeat and the next, she was gone and Jared stood alone in the clearing. Walking like a man in a dream, he went back to the spring, drinking his fill and dutifully filling the flasks. But as he made his way back to his brother, fear and surprise receding at every step, he started thinking about what had happened. For a moment, thinking of how quickly the lady had disappeared, he wondered if he had imagined everything, if the heat had gone to his head...but no, the Lady of the Southern wind – and who else could it be, in this season and calling herself the Lord Jensen's sister – had been right there before him, had spoken to him. More than spoken: she had sought him out and tested him and perhaps not found him wanting.

But her warning weighed heavily on his mind. She had mentioned happiness – not fame, not riches, not marriage to a king's daughter, like the fairytales his mother used to tell him, but happiness. But what being, even a mighty one like her, could promise happiness? Most importantly, why would she even care about  _his_ happiness?

 

No, the warning had been addressed _to_ him but it had not been  _about_ him. It had to be about the lord Jensen: evidently, knowing his name made Jared a danger to him. He wasn't sure how, but it had to be so and he immediately resolved to be on his guard: he would never let the Wind Lord's name pass his lips, not even by accident.

 

All spring and summer long he also debated whether it would be wiser never to see the Wind Lord again, lest somebody should discover his secret. However, when winter finally arrived and he heard the cold wind blowing all around his house, his resolution was swept away and he snuck out of bed to meet his only friend.

 


	4. Chapter 4

One by one, seven winters passed: the lord of the Northern wind still met with the young mortal every time he rode through that land, but things were not the same.

Every winter, lord Jensen found Jared a bit changed: a little taller, a little stronger, most of all a little older. At first he found those changes fascinating, for the land slept when it was his time to ride and he had never seen anything grow, save for the icicles that hung from tree branches and roofs. However, as the years passed, he realized that soon Jared would grow old and his immortal soul would cross into Their Father's reign, where no wind blows. His only friend would then be lost to him forever.

 

“It does not have to end like this,” his sister the Lady of the Southern wind often reminded him. “You know that well: was not my Aldis human, once, and mortal?”

 

But Lord Jensen shook his head: “Aldis loves you as a lover does, Danneel, I am only Jared's friend. Should I ask him to forsake his family and the land where he was born, all in the name of friendship? I'd be a poor friend indeed! He has his whole life before him...”

 

“A mortal life!” Lady Danneel huffed.

 

“Well, who are we to judge? Maybe you are right and he would come if I asked, but do you suppose he would never grow tired of my company? That he would not long for a family of his own? I was alone for a long time, sister, I shall grow used to it again, but if Jared came to hate me... no, that I could not bear!”

 

In a way, the lord of the Northern wind was right: as he grew older, Jared's world had expanded from his own little farm in the middle of the fields to the other farms and the nearby village, with all their inhabitants.

He was a kind, cheerful lad and soon his neighbors came to love him well. What the Lord Jensen didn't know, however, was that no one could claim to know him well: sure, Jared was always ready to lend a hand, always ready to laugh and joke and play, but there was always a sense of reserve about him. One couldn't really call him quiet, the boy could talk fifteen to the dozen when he wanted to. The one thing he never seemed to want to talk about was himself: he was friendly to all, but close to no one and of his dreams, his opinions and his innermost thoughts, nobody could say a thing – nobody but the lord of the Northern wind, that is, had anybody thought to ask him.

Luckily for Jared, it was generally decided that, growing up as he had, without a father he could confide in and with such a spoiled younger brother, he had simply become accustumed to keeping things to himself. It was all perfectly natural and once he was a little older, a pretty girl would surely break through his reserve.

 

But spring and summer came and went, and Jared never showed the slightest interest in any of the girls.

“Well,” people said at first “he's still young. He's only 15, some boys grow more slowly than others. Give him time, next year he'll be sighing like a young calf.”

 

But the next summer came and went, and so did the summer after that and nothing changed at all: Jared came to all the festivals and all the dances, but he never seemed to favor one girl over another.

That couldn't be quite normal and people puzzled over it for a while, until an explanation was found: “Well,” they started saying, “Jared is a serious young man, but he hasn't come of age yet: if his stepmother denies her consent, he can't take a girl into their house. Mark my words, he'll wait until he is 20: as soon as he inherits the farm, he'll start looking for a bride!”

This explanation greatly reassured his neighbors and provided them with a new pastime: instead of trying to guess which girl Jared loved, they started discussing his farm and what he could offer to his future bride. It started out as an innocuous game, almost a joke, but after a couple of years, when Jared turned 19, the subject started coming up more and more often – so much that, one bright market day in mid-autumn, it finally reached his stepmother's ears.

 

None of her neighbors was so crass as to bring it directly to her attention: she simply stumbled up it by chance, overhearing a snatch of conversation between two women. Only a handful of words, yet they made her heart tremble.

At first, she tried to quench her fears with reason: “Jared is still a boy and he wears his heart on his sleeve,” she thought to herself. “If he were in love with a girl, he would not be able to hide it, not from me. I have nothing to fear.”

But still those words returned again and again, burning like hot coals in her mind.

 

As autumn turned to winter, she watched her step-son carefully: Jared was a dutiful boy and would not shrink from his responsibilities, but did he look distracted as he worked? Was he saddened by the arrival of winter, which would be spent indoors with his family?

But no, Jared looked like he always did at the turning of the season – for some strange reason no one could fathom, the boy loved winter.

 

However, it was too late now: the spark had been struck and her mind knew no peace. “If Jared is not in love  _now_ ,” she thought “It does not mean he'll never be and next mid-summer, the farm will become his. How long until a young, pretty girl catches his eye? One year, two? I'll have to give her my keys and she will be able to do and undo as she pleases. All the years I've labored, all my sufferings will count for nothing, I'll be cast aside like a broken pot! And my poor, darling Adric will have nothing left.” 

Such thoughts smoldered in her mind all through winter.

 

Meanwhile, Jared kept sneaking out of bed at night with a racing heart – but not because he feared being caught.

Thus passed the eighth winter, although when the time came, the lord of the Northern Wind was very reluctant to depart from those lands. Still, not even he could refuse the turning of the seasons: on the very last night he was allowed to ride, he saddled his white horse and quickly made for a little farm in the middle of the fields.

It was not late, yet Jared was already waiting for him. The hours flew by as they talked and talked – longer than they ever had before, but every time Jensen tried to send Jared back inside to sleep, the young man refused, saying “There's still time and I am not tired yet.”

 

Dawn was less than an hour away when Jensen finally mounted on his horse. “I have kept you almost all night,” said he. “Will you get enough sleep?”

 

Jared shook his head. “I do not plan to sleep it all, my lord. Do not worry, I am young and one sleepless night won't harm me.” He reached up and placed his hand on Jensen's knee, looking up at him with serious eyes. “On Mid-Summer Day, I'll turn 20. According to our laws and traditions, I will be a man. My lord, when you return next winter, there's something I wish to discuss with you.” He smiled a little sadly. “Perhaps it's madness, but I must know.”

 

“Can't we discuss it now?” Jensen asked, not quite daring to hope. Yet there was _something_ in Jared's eyes, in his smile...

 

The young man stepped back. “No, there's not enough time – and it's not the right moment, not yet. Until we meet again, my lord.”

 

“Until next winter, little mortal,” the Wind Lord said before galloping away.

 

Jared stood by the house and watched the sun rise on the horizon.

 

In the following months, as the days grew longer and warmer, Jared had little time to himself: there was always something that needed doing and he gladly shouldered the heaviest jobs.

“I'm almost a man, mother,” he'd say cheerfully. “You can lean on me now.” 

At night, he would fall into bed, exhausted, proud and happy, stealing a few more moments to daydream of his future.

 

One day, when he was going to work far away from their house, his step-mother stopped him at the door. “There's no point in coming back at midday and walking all the way out there again. Here's a basket with some food for your lunch, and a flask of wine if you get thirsty.”

“ Thank you, mother,” said Jared, kissing her cheek. “I'll see you at dinner.”

She stood on the doorway and watched him go until he disappeared from sight.

 

The eastern field was very far from the farm and hidden from view from their neighbors' fields by a large thicket. Jared immediately set to work, whistling and humming to himself.

With every passing hour, the sun grew hotter, beating mercilessly on his head, and Jared started feeling thirsty. Deciding he could afford a few minutes' rest, he went to fetch the wine flask from his step-mother's basket, raised it to his lips and took a long gulp – the wine was bitter on his tongue. He lowered the flask, but it was already too late: fire spread through every fiber of his body and dark spots danced before his eyes, blocking out every light. His body was no longer his own and he fell like a tree under the ax, without a sound – even the solace of screaming denied to him by the drug that flowed through his veins, locking every muscle in place to the point he had to struggle and fight for every mouthful of air. He couldn't feel the sun on his face or the earth under his back, all his world narrowed down to the frenzied beating of his own heart and the effort to draw breath. Suddenly, with a flash of wordless clarity, he knew that his step-mother had poisoned him and he would die out there in the eastern field, alone. 

He had no strength left to think, but his whole heart cried out for Jensen – beautiful, kind Jensen, who would not find him in winter and would never know why.

 

Jared opened his mouth, but all that passed his dry lips was a soft whimper. A sudden, mad determination seized him and he started fighting against the pain, forcing himself to take deeper breaths and trying to shout. It hurt even more, but he did not care: it would be his very last act on Earth, but Jensen had to  _know._

At first it was just a cough, then a rattle, a breathless whisper, then, finally, a desperate scream ripped through the air: “JENSEN!”

Dark spots danced before his eyes and he fought not to pass out, not to give in to the welcoming darkness. Suddenly, a shadow fell on him and for the second time in his life, he found himself face to face with the lady of the Southern wind.

 

“Jared...” she whispered fearfully. Several tears fell from her eyes and when they touched his skin, he suddenly felt some of that unbearable fire receding. Immediately he tried to speak, but she shushed him. 

“Don't, don't, save your strength. I'll get him, I'll bring him here right away, but you must hold on, do you hear me? Please, please, hold on.”

 

He managed a tiny nod and she sprang to her feet, jumping on her black horse and spurring him Northward. In all her immortal life she never rode so fast and so hard as she did that day, when she tried to outrace Death. Cities and fields passed by in a blur, growing fewer and fewer until she finally reached the border of the White Lands.

“Jensen!” She shouted. “Jensen, come quick! Jared needs you!”

 

 

She had barely spoken those words that her brother appeared at a gallop. “What of Jared?”

 

Lady Danneel turned her horse and started leading the way. “He was poisoned, I think, and he's fading fast. I cried for him, but they were only tears of friendship. Perhaps it will be enough to hold him here.”

Then there were no more words until they reached the field where the young mortal lay with his eyes closed.

 

Lord Jensen jumped from the saddle and ran to his side. “Jared! Jared, I'm here, I'm here...”

 

At the sound of his voice, Jared opened his eyes and smiled. “Jensen...” he whispered.

 

“Don't speak. Everything will be all right, Jared, I...”

 

“ 's too late,” Jared said, still smiling. “I feel it.”

 

“Don't talk like that. I won't let you die, you can't leave me, Jared...” 

 

“ 's all right. Doesn't hurt much. I... I'm happy I can see you one last time.” There were so many things he wanted to tell him, but he had no strength left. The darkness he had long held at bay finally rushed in and claimed him.

 

 

In the eastern field, Jensen held his love in his arms and wept.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Jared would never remember the first time he rode as fast as the wind itself, he never saw the White Lands grow closer or glimpsed the shimmering spires of the Ice Palace. He would never know the terrified hammering of Jensen's heart, Jensen's desperate prayers and the long vigil by his bed in which there were neither nights nor days.

 

Little by little, several sensations started piercing through the veil of uncosciousness: a soft mattress beneath his back, warm blankets and pillows surrounding him and the warm glow of light behind his eyelids.

Jared opened his eyes, then blinked in amazement. Any moment now and the rich room he saw would disappear, replaced by more familiar sight – such beautiful things had to be the product of a dream! But the thick furs and precious hangings remained in place and so did the carved furniture and the large bed on which he lay.

 

“Jared?” A well-known, well-loved voice whispered.

 

He turned his head on his pillow, not quite daring to hope, but the lord of the Northern wind was right there by his side.

“Jensen...” he smiled, raising a tanned hand to touch him only to have it clasped between two pale ones and kissed reverently, almost feverishly.

Jared said nothing, content to drink in the sight of the Wind Lord, but soon he started noticing worrying details, like the extreme pallor of his skin and the dark circles under his eyes.

“Jen– I mean, my lord, what happened? Are you well?”

 

“Am I...?” The Wind Lord stared at him as if he could not believe his ears, then burst into short, brittle laugh. “You incredible, impossible...boy!”

 

“I'm not a boy! And you look... in all the years I've known you, you have never looked any different and now you do, you look like you have been sick and you are not supposed to get sick or...”

 

Jensen put his fingers on his lips, stilling that torrent of words. “Hush, Jared, don't strain yourself. You are right, Wind Lords do not get sick like mortals do – I suppose you could say I have been sick with worry. I am well now, so worry about yourself and not about me.”

 

“About myself? Why? I feel very well. My lord, what happened? Where am I?”

 

The Wind Lord hesitated. “What is the last thing you remember?”

 

Jared frowned. “I was working in the eastern field. I was thirsty...” he cut himself off with a sharp intake of breath as everything became clearer: the poisoned wine, his agony, screaming for Jensen, the need to see him one last time.... “I was dying.” he whispered, shocked. “I was dying and I called your name. You came to me.”

 

Jensen's hands tightened on his own. “Yes.”

 

For a long time, Jared couldn't speak: too many thoughts swirled in his mind, too many feelings clamored for prominence in his heart, he felt like they were going to drown him.

“Am I dead?” he finally choked out, looking at Jensen with wide, frightened eyes.

 

“No, Jared, no, we reached you in time. We saved you. You would not be here with me if you weren't alive: no soul is allowed to linger on Earth beyond its time and I could not follow you in Heaven.”

 

“I see...” Jared said softly, still dazed. “She tried to kill me. She really did try to kill me.” He glanced up at the Wind Lord. “I should not be surprised, perhaps. After all, that's how we met.”

 

“I wasn't going to say anything.” Jensen said. “I was not sure you realized...”

  
“Back then? I did not. I always told myself that she didn't mean it, that she got carried away by her anger and didn't realize I would...” he trailed off. “Stupid. So stupid.”

 

Jensen bowed his head. “I'm so sorry, Jared, I should have warned you. I should have known she would try again...”

 

“No, don't be... you only had that one accident, it really wasn't enough. Besides, I never wanted to talk about it, remember? And you saved me again.” His eyes filled with tears. “You know why she did it, don't you?”

 

The Wind Lord gritted his teeth. “Yes.”

 

“Would you tell me? Please?”

 

“I'm not sure it's wise,” he replied, clearly uncomfortable. “You have just woken up, you shouldn't dwell on these things.”

 

Jared shook his head. “I can't help but think about it. I'd rather know the truth – please.”

 

Jensen hesitated again, then took a deep breath. “It was for your brother. You told me about your laws yourself, remember? All the land goes to the eldest living son.”

 

Jared was silent for a long time. “I loved them. I was going to take care of them. All my life I've worked to take care of them, I wasn't going to stop. But it wasn't enough, was it?”

 

His voice sounded so broken, so defeated, that the lord of the Northern wind could not contain himself: “My wind will bring the house down upon their heads.”

 

Jared's eyes flew open. “What? No!”

 

But the face he looked into was the cold, merciless face of winter.

“They deserve this and worse for what they did to you! They will both pay!”

 

“No, my lord, please!” Jared cried, slipping out of bed and throwing himself at the Wind Lord's feet.

 

“Jared, no! What are you doing? Get up, the floor is cold...”

 

“My lord,” Jared said, stubbornly refusing to raise. “If my company ever gave you a moment of pleasure, I beg you not to harm Adric. Please, he's my brother.”

 

“Get up, Jared.” He replied tersely, picking him up as if he weighted no more than a feather and putting him back into bed. “He's the reason you were almost killed twice and yet you ask for mercy for him! I swear I'll never understand you.”

 

“He is my brother.” Jared said and didn't fight being tucked in like a child only because he had no strength to do so.

 

The lord of the Northern Wind sighed. “All right. I'll spare his life – but not that woman's, not even for you.”

 

“I did not ask you to.” Jared bit his lip and turned away. “I'm a wicked man... She's the only mother I ever knew yet I don't mind if you kill her.”

 

“She hurt you and betrayed you twice. If you gave her the chance, she would kill you and not feel a shred of guilt over it.” Jensen said softly. “I may not be human, but even I can tell that whoever acts like that does not deserve to be called a mother.”

 

“It's not that easy...”

 

“No, it cannot be. I'm so sorry, Jared.”

 

“It was not your fault.”

 

There was nothing more to say to that and, for a while, they were silent. Jensen hoped that Jared would fall asleep again and get more rest, but instead the young human spoke up.

“I shall never see my father's house again...”

Jensen forced himself to remain quiet and not trouble him further with offers he might feel obliged to accept out of gratitude and loss.

“It's so strange, I was planning to leave anyway...” Jared went on, his eyes finding Jensen's gaze and holding it. “I had to wait until I came of age, so I could leave the farm to... to _her_ and you couldn't say I was too young when I asked you.”

 

Jensen's heart skipped a beat. “Asked me what?”

 

Jared bit his lip. “I was going to work on a speech all summer, have it all nice and ready by next winter... I know about courting, but it's usually coached in terms of, well, mortal women. Or mortal men and you are neither – obviously. You are so high above me, would it be presuming too much if I asked for your hand? Should I just offer you mine?”

 

“My hand.” Jensen repeated disbelievingly.

 

“Yes. In marriage.” Jared swallowed hard. “Or just in friendship, if you don't... I mean, why would you... But I'll be happy to be your friend, your companion, as long as I can stay by your side. I swear I'll never speak a word of my feelings again if they offend you. Believe me, I value your friendship, I would not lose it for anything...”

 

Jensen stared at him. “You... you are saying that you love me?” He couldn't quite make it an affirmation.

 

“Well, yes!” Jared replied, sounding thoroughly surprised it wasn't obvious and natural – as if he had been asked whether the sun rose in the East. “Of course I love you! I have loved you since I was a child, before I even understood what love was. How could I not?”

 

“And you don't want to marry a girl from your village?” The Wind Lord insisted. “Have children?”

 

Jared shook his head. “How could anyone ever compare to you? You are the kindest being I ever met – and the most beautiful, of course. But, please, if you don't love me...”

 

“Jared....” he interrupted. “Jared, how could I not? You praise my kindness, but it's nothing compared to yours. And your bravery, your loyalty, your patience, your smile...” he reached out with one hand, gently touching Jared's face. “You are everything to me. My sun, my moon, my whole world.”

 

Jared smiled. “May I kiss you, then?”

As an answer, Jensen moved to the edge of the bed and leaned down, his lips gently brushing against Jared's.

 

As first kisses went, perhaps it was a bit too shy, a bit too light – but it was _theirs_ and they couldn't have imagined or wished for a different one. And if they had to limit themselves to kissing for the time being, even as a different kind of fire warmed their blood, they had all the time in the world to make up for it.

But there were other, less pleasant matters that could not be indefinitely delayed.

 

A month to the day Jared had been brought to the White Lands, after he had recovered his strenght and grown accustumed to his new surroundings, Jensen came to him at sunset, dressed all in black riding clothes.

 

“So it is tonight, my lord.” Jared said softly, slipping back into formal address without noticing.

The Wind Lord nodded coldly, mercilessly.

 

Jared rose from his seat and crossed the space between them before it became an unbridgeable chasm, reaching for him without fear. His mouth yielded under his stubborn kisses and for a moment he caught sight of his lover beneath the Wind Lord.

“I know what you are thinking,” Jared whispered, holding him close. “I understand. Carry out your duty and return to me.”

Jensen didn't speak, but Jared felt his arms tightening around his waist and the gentle pressure of Jensen's forehead against his shoulder.

 

Abruptly, the Wind Lord stepped back, offering a quick half-bow and striding out. A few minutes later, he was riding out on his white horse.

From the top of the highest tower in the Ice Palace, Jared watched him go. He fancied that if he looked hard enough, he could make out three blurred shapes, waiting for the Lord of the Northern Wind beyond the edge of the White Lands.

 

He had not lied when he said he understood. When Jensen returned, he would owe him an apology for thinking it was just revenge that drove him: Jensen would have renounced any retribution if Jared asked him, but this was something more important, more necessary. This was justice.

Since that winter night, when Jensen had kissed his brow and given him his name, Jared had been under the Wind Lord's protection – and what the Wind Lords had, the Wind Lords held and never let go of. His step-mother hadn't simply wronged him: she had meddled with forces beyond this world, forces no mortal was meant to challenge. For this crime, there could be neither forgiveness nor mercy.

All four Wind Lords were riding out. It had not happened in centuries.

 

In a little farm in the middle of the fields there were two people: a sleeping boy and a waking woman.

Spring work was exhausting, yet she could not sleep. A month before she had walked to the eastern field, ready to “discover” her step-son's lifeless body, but when she had reached it, she had found nothing but a spilled flask and an abandoned basket. She had looked under the trees and behind the bushes, walked the neighbors' fields and even gone to the nearest farms, but Jared had simply vanished.

 

After a month, no trace of him had been found – the whole village was still talking about it and would probably keep at it all summer, maybe even all winter. They did nothing but talk and talk and talk: whenever they saw her, they'd try to comfort her or commiserate and she'd have to stand there and listen while her heart beat hard and fast in her chest.

No matter how many time she told herself he couldn't have survived, she could not be _sure._ If she had lived in fear before, that was nothing to the mindless terror that gripped her now: every shadow had Jared's face, every sound turned into his voice or his approaching footsteps...

 

She had been laying in the dark for a long time when she first heard the wind howling outside her window. At first it seemed to come from the South, then from the East and West at once, and then from the North, a wind so strong the whole house shook from the ground up.

Her thoughts immediately turned to her son: was he awake? Was he scared? She immediately lit a candle and jumped out of bed, but as she stepped into the kitchen, the flickering light revealed a tall man standing in the shadows. Her heart leapt in her throat and she almost called out her stepson's name – but no, it could not be Jared: that was not his frame, it was not his face and where would he ever find such rich clothes? And there was something strange about the man standing in her kitchen, something she could not quite name...

“Who are you?” she asked. “How did you get in?”

 

The man stared at her with ice-cold eyes. “Where is your son?”

 

“What do you want with him? Adric is just a child, he is sleeping now...”

 

“Nothing. I have no quarrel with children. But he's not the only son you have, is he?” The stranger said, his voice cutting like a dagger. “What of your other son? The little boy you raised, who knew no other mother than you? Where is he?”

 

She took a step back, trembling. “He...he ran away, he deserted us...”

 

The house gave a great shake, creaking fearsomely, and a strong gust of wind suddenly slammed her against the wall.

“Liar!” The man's eyes burned. “Even now you seek to harm him, killing his good name as you tried to kill him!”

 

She gasped as the full meaning of his words sank in: he had said “tried to,” so Jared still lived. Still, she desperately tried to deny her actions: “I did not...”

 

The wind picked up again, stealing her breath.

“Oh, yes, you did. Who made the poison? And who put it in the wine and gave it to him to drink on a hot day?” He sneered in disgust. “You swore to love him and protect him as though he where your own. When his father lay dying, you promised him you would look after _both_ his children. And how did you keep your word? Twice you have tried to take his life and nearly succeeded both times. I will not let you make another attempt.”

 

The woman fell to her knees, begging. “Please, sir, have mercy! Think of my child...”

 

“Like you thought of your husband's? You'd deserve it, but I promised Jared I would not harm him and I am no oath breaker.”

 

As he spoke, the wind returned, the strongest, coldest gale she had ever felt. It should have destroyed the kitchen or brought the house down, instead is seemed to blow on her alone, holding her on the ground: her breath clouded over, billions of needles prickled her skin, ice was slowly forming on her clothes and hair. Soon, she realized, it would cover her completely. She would freeze to death on a summer night, the fate she had first tried to arrange for Jared eight years before would be hers.

The man stood by and watched, his eyes unblinking.

 

“Who are you?” she stammered through chattering teeth.

 

“I am the lord of the Northern Wind.”

 

She opened her mouth again, but the words would not obey, she could not string them together into sentences. Great tremors wracked her body, then slowly subsided. Her muscles stiffened, her breathing slowed and, finally, her heart stopped.

The lord of the Northern wind surveyed his work one last time: justice had been served. The ice would endure well past dawn, everyone would know exactly how she had met her end, who she had crossed, although they probably would not know how. It vexed him, being unable to denounce her crimes before the whole world. Her neighbors ought to know what serpent, what monster had lived among them.

 

The Lord of the Northern Wind walked out of the house using neither door nor window. His brother and sisters were already on horseback, waiting: Danneel handed him the reins of his white horse and he mounted easily, lightly. One by one, they spurred their horses, riding away from the little farm.

Even though that humble abode had been dearer to him than his own palace, Jensen never looked back: it was not Jared's home anymore, he would never return to that hateful place again... Except that he would, wouldn't he? Come winter, he would want to see how his brother fared.

 

Then, perhaps, his old neighbors would see him riding by his side and recognize him. Perhaps they would guess at the truth behind his disappearance... But there would be time for that. Now it was still Summer, his sister's time.

First, Jensen would help Jared explore the White Lands and then, when autumn came, he would show him the whole world.

 

* * *

 

Illustration by the lovely and talented roxymissrose: [Wind Lord!Jensen & Jared](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1885437)

 

 


End file.
